


tarantulas over taffeta

by sarahshelena



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Bisexual Male Character, Comfort Sex, Could Be Canon, Doomed Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Goodbye Sex, I Don't Even Know, I'm Sorry, LGBTQ Female Character, Partners to Lovers, Past Relationship(s), Resolved Sexual Tension, Spiders, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 03:30:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9860351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahshelena/pseuds/sarahshelena
Summary: working closely together, especially in a dangerous profession, has a way of breaking down certain barriers.particularly if you're attracted to your partner.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [leradny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leradny/gifts).



> still don't know exactly what this is, been working on it for days and I am so sorry
> 
> jacquelyn/gustav with him being hopelessly in love with his partner who still happens to be pining for her lost lover
> 
> no, it's worse than it sounds!
> 
> hope you enjoy this trash anyway

Working closely together, especially in a dangerous profession, has a way of breaking down certain barriers.

Particularly if you're attracted to your partner. 

On this particular evening, Jacquelyn was overtly dark and brooding, but Gustav had more control over his expression. He kept his face smooth and tried to make pleasant conversation, but she was in one of her rare volatile moods. 

And the puffy pink dress she had to wear wasn't improving it. 

They were disguised as ballroom dancers to infiltrate a competition where it was said the woman with hair but no beard and the man with a beard but no hair were judges. Gustav had his hair slicked back, and Jacquelyn's was in loose curls, her mouth painted a deep red. She wouldn't change that, at least. 

* * *

After their waltz, at some point during the night, they had been discovered while they were attempting to toss the judge's rooms for information — luckily it had only been housekeeping staff, and before the door had opened fully, without warning, Gustav had picked up Jacquelyn as if she weighed nothing and deposited her on the dresser, stepped between her thighs and began kissing her neck, murmuring, “So sorry.”

Her eyes drifted shut at his soft mouth pressing warmly against her throat, and she clutched at his tuxedo jacket. 

Just as the cleaner was pushing the trolley through the door, Jacquelyn’s eyes snapped open and she pulled one of Gustav’s hands from her waist to her thigh and tugged her dress up around her hips, wrapped her legs around him and hissed in his ear, _“Sell it.”_

She felt him grow hard against her thigh, and tried to ignore the sensation, her own desire growing more and more apparent, and prayed he couldn't feel it through his clothes as he moved against her, his lips parted and his tongue came into contact with her skin, making her gasp and jolt against him in surprise. 

Remembering herself, she looked up at just the right moment, right as the cleaner’s jaw dropped. 

Like she'd done before for a number of films they'd made together, Jacquelyn screamed, and right on cue, Gustav turned threateningly and the cleaner backed out of the room, stammering apologies and shutting the door. 

The silence that followed was tense and heavy; Jacquelyn could feel the dampness between her legs and she slid off the dresser, pulling the puffy pink skirt back down to cover herself. She pressed her lips together nervously, noting that Gustav stayed with his back to her, standing stiffly, and she decided to respect his obvious embarrassment, and turned to open the drawers of the dresser and continue searching them. 

She didn't mention the red lipstick she'd left staining his collar. 

* * *

Hours later, after they'd found what they were looking for, they slipped out of the hotel room and into another further down the hall.

“We have to change clothes,” Jacquelyn took off her strappy pink stilettos and tossed them into the wastepaper basket, “Dressed like this we’ll be incredibly conspicuous.” 

“Of course,” Gustav nodded jerkily, “What do we change-” 

Jacquelyn shook out his leather pants from the beaded bag she carried, along with a black button-down shirt and a blouse and pencil skirt. 

“...into.” he finished awkwardly. 

“I couldn't fit your jacket in here, or any other shoes,” she said apologetically, “But we’ll just look like we’re doing a walk of shame, which will help us fly under the radar.” 

“Yes, good- Good idea.” Gustav pulled off his tuxedo jacket slowly, folding it and placing it on a chair. 

Jacquelyn yanked at the zipper on the side of her dress, “Help me with this?” she asked. 

Gustav abandoned the jacket and strode over to her, placing his hands over hers, moving the puffy pink fabric away from the metal teeth and gently pulling the zipper down, loosening the waistband of the dress and exposing inches of her creamy skin. 

They both tensed, Jacquelyn actually trembling with him touching her so carefully. Gustav then did something very tempting and very foolish. He parted the fabric with his fingers and slid his hand through the opening of her dress; palming the silken warmth, exhaling heavily, hating himself for doing it, but revelling in the soft texture of her skin. 

Jacquelyn didn't elbow him. She didn't turn and jab him in the throat or rabbit punch him. She leant back against him and _shivered_. As if she was cold. Or as if what he'd done had affected her in ways other than evoking violent defensive responses. 

She turned her head and kissed the corner of his mouth, unprepared for how he met her lips, kissing her fiercely, his hand still pressed flat against her skin beneath the dress. But when she writhed against him and turned in his arms, his hand came free. 

He backed up to the bed, falling heavily back on the carefully made sheets and Jacquelyn, lithe as a cat, made her way onto his lap until she was sitting atop him, their kisses frenzied and frantic, and she was tugging insistently at his trousers, managing to yank them down his toned legs and he kicked them off. There was still his underwear, and she still wore that ridiculous pink dress, but she brought his face back to hers; their lips met and her tongue flicked against his, making them both tremble — he was already hard beneath her, and within moments of realisation of this, Jacquelyn was rocking back and forth in his lap, taking him between her thighs and drawing deep, strangled sounds from his throat. 

Her breathing was ragged as her teeth scraped across his neck, pushing herself harder against him, groaning, "Gustav..." demandingly. 

“Alright,” he murmured, and sat up, tugging his white shirt over his head, the cufflinks popping off as he yanked his wrists free of the sleeves, muttering, “Damn and blast it.” 

He lifted her dress over her head, the fabric mussing her hair and leaving her in only her brassiere and panties, sitting atop him like an absolute dream. 

“Good Lord,” he managed to choke out, reaching out and brushing his fingertips over the lace and satin. Jacquelyn rolled her eyes at the reverence in his expression. 

“For goodness’ sake, Gustav, they're just _breasts_ ,” she exclaimed, bringing his hands to cup them, as if to show him that they were little more than mounds of fatty tissue intended for only one purpose which really wasn't anything to do with this. 

Swallowing hard, all his charm forgotten, Gustav knew that it wasn't the fact that they were breasts, it was that they were _hers_ , and he felt his face grow warm with embarrassment. 

She smiled at him in a ‘what-am-I-going-to-do-with-you’ way, and reached behind her back to unhook the garment, pushing the straps off her shoulders and tossing it away carelessly. Despite himself, Gustav’s eyes widened, and he brushed his thumbs over her pink nipples, making her lips stop smiling and her mouth fall open in a gasp of pleasure. 

He sat up and leant into her, pressing moist, open-mouthed kisses against the cool, velvety flesh and tilting his head to take one nipple between his lips. Jacquelyn actually _whimpered_ , her fingers knotting in his hair and tightening as his tongue passed over the soft bud, curling around it and drawing a sigh from her lips as she shifted in his lap, directly against his cock, which was stiff against her backside and still trapped within the confines of his remaining clothes. 

Jacquelyn gently and grudgingly pulled him away from her breast and tugged his underwear down his thighs and Gustav kicked them off; when she took him in her hand, he was wonderfully thick and burning hot against her palm. He groaned at her touch and his hips jerked unconsciously. 

“Just a moment,” he muttered, reaching over to the nightstand and retrieving a small square wrapper with a distinctively circular prophylactic inside from a leather travel case that he only took with him to Dr Montgomery’s house. When he looked back up at her, Jacquelyn met his barefaced gaze, and understood. 

She held his gaze as he slid the condom on and she took him in her hand — as she sank down onto him, she cried out, her head fell back in ecstasy while he linked their fingers together tenderly — and for a while, Kit was forgotten. 

Afterward, they didn't speak of what they had done, but carried it inside them: this shared identity and this secret affair. As in all organisations, any kind of non-professional relationship with one’s co-workers was discouraged, but in V.F.D. they were all each other had. 

* * *

Jacquelyn didn't tell Gustav about Kit, and he didn't ask. He respected her too much to bring up something that she clearly did not wish to speak about. He would spent a few days after each return from Dr Montgomery’s home in complete raptures about the herpetologist and his reptiles and amphibians, and, recently, about their newest discovery. He told her that he so wished her to meet… “Ink”, he called it. She didn't know what it was, but it was clear that he loved this creature intensely.

She could relate. In the years she'd spent in the very bowels of this dank and dirty city, she had befriended many spiders, often preferring their company to the company of others. Her favorite was a Chilean Rose tarantula that Gustav had brought her from his travels with Doctor Montgomery. 

She had named the spider Ailín and adored her utterly, keeping it with her wherever she went. Ailín had gotten her out of a few rather sticky situations, by how she would appear unexpectedly from one of Jacquelyn’s pockets or crawl silently out of her bag (where she kept very few items, and all of them lightweight, so as not to hurt her dear friend.) 

Some of her most beloved moments were simply spent with Ailín meandering around her person, picking up little spider paws and crawling delicately over the bare skin of her arms. 

She preferred the company of spiders to people. 

But Gustav she always liked to have around. He never pried or pressured her into admitting anything, he always backed her up and noticed when something was amiss, choosing to help with non-confrontational methods that weren't controlling or demanding. 

And she loved him for it. 

* * *

Their first time had been years before the Baudelaire fire. In fact, it had been just before the Spats fire, and now, after so long together, he knew her better than anyone had: he knew her mannerisms, her pet peeves (which matched his), how she took her tea (sharp, and bitter as wormwood, of course) and how he could stop her scowling just by tucking her hair behind her ear, which ended with her giving him a smile that almost broke his heart every time.

But now, it was late at night, after the performance of The Marvellous Marriage, and Olaf escaping the (oft corrupt) hand of justice. The Baudelaires had been sent off with Mr Poe, despite Jacquelyn’s protests that she and Gustav should take them to Doctor Montgomery’s home for extra precaution. 

Frustrated, Jacquelyn had been silent the entire drive back to her flat where Gustav had left his suitcase. They intended to only pick up his things and make their way to the herpetologist’s house, but when they entered her flat, he didn't even have to turn on the light to gauge her expression. 

Her mouth was downcast in an almost-sneer of displeasure and anger, and he didn't even hesitate before brushing her golden hair back from her face and sweeping it behind her ear. She broke out in a reluctant smile, and he softly kissed her upturned lips, going to the nightstand to retrieve his travel case and lock it in his suitcase which stood by the door. 

“You know that shortcut to Doctor Montgomery’s, right, Gustav?” 

“Yes,” he glanced up at her as he crouched by his case, “Why do you ask?” 

As if in answer, Jacquelyn reached out and smoothed his dark hair back from his forehead tenderly, remarking in an almost hopeful tone, “You could always stay a while.” 

Gustav gazed up at her, speechless. Never, in all the years they'd worked together, had she asked him to stay and be with her. And, hopeless romantic that he was, he dropped the travel case to the floor and stood, taking her in his arms and kissing her, murmuring against her mouth, “Of course, Jacquelyn.” 

Not wasting any time, Gustav released her beautifully plump lips, yanked off his tuxedo jacket and pulled his button-down shirt over his head, the abdominal muscles of his stomach rippling, glossy with sweat from the humid night air. Jacquelyn turned and pushed her evening gown off her shoulders with some difficulty — the heavy garment fell to the floor, leaving her standing in her stockings and slip — which had ridden up over her generous hips, showing a glimpse of her underwear. Turning her head and catching his easy smile and the warmth of his hand on her hip, Jacquelyn felt Gustav softly ask permission. She leaned back into him without hesitation; she trusted him implicitly. 

Kissing her neck, Gustav pushed the flimsy straps off her shoulders and let the garment slide down her body, champagne-coloured satin slithering over Jacquelyn’s pale skin and pooling at her feet. The way he undressed her felt different tonight; apart from their first time, it was always slow and methodical, almost practiced. They both had bonded with each other, emotionally and sexually, but Jacquelyn, fearful of forming a connection, never let their kisses linger too long, never lay in bed with him following intercourse without speaking or getting up. She just couldn't let go of Kit, and so didn't want to hold onto him as well. 

She could only carry so much with her. 

But this time, although Gustav always took infinite care with her, tonight there was an undercurrent of passion that she felt immediately when he touched her. Despite the thread of fear that shot up her spine, desire trickled through her and pooled in her belly, and she arched against him, cat-like, stroking her fingers through his thick hair, sighing deeply, “Gustav?” 

“Yes, Jacquelyn?” he murmured, his lips at the nape of her neck, his breath tickling the fine hairs. 

Her fingers momentarily tightened in his hair, “Take me to bed.” 

Gustav's arms wrapped around Jacquelyn and he lifted her, carrying her to the bed with one arm under her knees and the other encircling her body. She pressed her face against his shoulder to hide a laugh. 

He lay her down gently and asked, “May I?” his hands hovering uncertainly. 

She nodded, biting her lip. 

Gustav’s hands slid up her stockinged legs, stroking her thighs and gently easing them apart. Her silk underwear was thin and flimsy, and, as he pressed his mouth against the hot fabric over her cunt, he discovered that it was damp. 

“Jacquelyn, you are a goddess,” he groaned, teasing her through the thin fabric with his thumb, making her gasp. 

Hooking his fingers through the waistband, he tugged them down her thighs, slipping them off and discarding them to be searched for later, and pressed his open mouth over her cunt, using the flat of his tongue to taste her and lave at the sensitive flesh, soft hairs tickling his nose. 

Jacquelyn's hands fisted in the sheets, her knuckles paling as her hips rose and fell intermittently, moaning as he lapped at the most intimate part of her, drawing her folds into his mouth and suckling intensely, making her writhe on the bed and take hold of his hair, her hands shaking. 

“Gustav,” she gasped, “Please, I can't wait-” 

She tugged at his hair, willing him to move. With one last teasing lick, he crawled up her body so that they were face to face, and he lay between her legs. She hurriedly unbuckled his belt and shoved his trousers down his thighs, not even considering contraception, only seeking the comfort of intimacy and the feeling of completion she had when he was inside her. 

Jacquelyn gasped as he entered her, both of them held perfectly still as her body acclimated to his size — sometimes, she still was not used to this kind of penetration, but as it was him, she accepted it, and, despite herself, desired it. 

She lifted her hips and bucked against him, driving him deeper and sending a clear message. He began to shift inside her, carefully and slowly, he thrust in and out of her, his body pressing hot against hers and burning in comparison to Kit’s cool skin and slight limbs. 

Blinking away tears, her heart pounding, Jacquelyn pushed away all thoughts of Kit, shut her eyes and wrapped her arms around Gustav’s torso, tangling her legs with his and beseeching him, _“Harder.”_

He complied, with one arm up by her head to steady himself, he stroked her hair with his free hand. She brushed his fingers away, not wanting to feel this particular intimacy from him. If she'd opened her eyes, Jacquelyn would've seen his face register the hurt he felt, but he only shifted his hand down to her thigh and lifted her leg to wrap around his waist, and allowing him to penetrate deeper. 

Jacquelyn moaned, clinging to him and pressing her face against his shoulder, tears leaking out from under her closed eyelids as he thrust into her smoothly, panting, his warm breath touching her hair. 

As the ache in her loins eased with the ministrations of Gustav, Jacquelyn felt a small, often silent part of her wanting the ache left by Kit’s absence to ease as well. 

Jacquelyn clung to him as they both reached climax, her shuddering deliciously at the warmth suddenly flooding within her, both figuratively and literally, with Gustav groaning in release, exhaling shakily into her neck and her gasping his name to the chilled air of the hotel room — of course, she hadn't a clue that it was the last time she would ever see him alive. 

“I have to go,” Gustav kissed her shoulder, “Monty will be expecting me, and I have to be there when he receives the children.” 

“Good luck,” Jacquelyn sat up, clutching the sheets to her chest, “Be careful.” 

“Always am,” he grinned, pulling on his trousers, “I'll send you a message if I need you. But I will radio you later this evening, let you know when the children arrive.” 

“Of course.” 

Gustav, after a moment of consideration, knelt on the bed and leaned in slowly, giving her time to shift away. But as the two volunteers sat closely together, he asked, “May I?” and waited for her nod of consent. 

His lips were warm when he kissed her, and as soft as the coconut cream cake he was always bringing her whenever he returned from Dr Montgomery’s. She found herself clutching at his chest as he pulled away and smiled at her sweetly, “See you soon, then.” 

Jacquelyn nodded wordlessly, waving weakly as he left, missing him immediately. She hoped she'd see him again soon — but of course, she didn't have an inkling of the dramatic irony that was about to befall them both.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave a comment, I love knowing what you think!


End file.
